Chapter 5 - A Price on Tomorrow
The silence of the third-floor private surgical ICU was far more deafening than the screaming monitors had been two hours earlier.
The immediate crisis had passed, pulled back from the precipice by Elena Vance’s relentless skill and three rounds of high-dose steroids. Elsie was now hooked to a gentle cannula, her labored wheezing reduced to a soft, rhythmic hum of artificial respiration. She looked tiny in the sprawling adult-sized bed Gabriel had demanded, swaddled in three layers of heated hospital blankets.
Gabriel sat in a rigid vinyl armchair pulled so close to the bed that his knees brushed the metal guardrail. He had refused to change out of his soaked clothes, only permitting Dominic to bring him a dry cashmere overcoat which hung uselessly over the back of the chair. He held Elsie’s left hand in his—his scarred, calloused fingers engulfing her tiny wrist, feeling the fragile, miraculous tap-tap-tap of her pulse.
A soft knock came at the heavy wooden door. Dominic slipped in, his expression grim, his dark suit smelling of wet pavement and ozone.
"Boss," Dominic murmured, keeping his voice beneath the hum of the monitors.
Gabriel didn’t look up from Elsie’s face. "Speak."
"Word leaked from the compound. Salvatore’s crew knows you broke perimeter during the red alert. They know you left the manor without the convoy." Dominic paused, his jaw clenching. "They know you didn't leave for an empire meeting. They know about the girl."
A terrible, cold stillness settled over Gabriel’s features. Slowly, carefully, he laid Elsie’s hand back down onto the bed, smoothing the edge of the blanket over her chest.
"How did they know?" Gabriel asked. The calmness in his tone was far more dangerous than any shout.
"A breach in the domestic staff at the south gate," Dominic replied, his head bowed. "Someone snapped a photo of you carrying her to the truck. The Moretti syndicate bought the feed twenty minutes ago. Vincent Moretti is already telling the council that the Great Gabriel Rinaldi has developed a soft underbelly."
Gabriel stood up. At six-foot-three, his presence consumed the dim light of the ICU. He walked to the window, peering down through the blinds into the rain-drenched street below. Three black SUVs sat parked across the street from the pediatric pavilion, headlights off, engines idling.
"They think she is my weakness," Gabriel said softly.
"Vincent thinks she’s leverage, boss. He thinks if he takes her, you’ll sign over the dock rights and the North Ridge distribution corridors."
Gabriel turned around. The blue origami star lay on the bedside table, perfectly preserved, placed right next to Elsie's medical monitors. Gabriel looked at the paper star, then looked back at Dominic.
"Vincent Moretti is half-right," Gabriel whispered, a predatory chill slicing through the air. "She is not my weakness. She is the reason I will burn his world to ashes."
Dominic straightened his spine, understanding the implicit command. "Orders, sir?"
"Call Marcus. Tell him to mobilize the first and third perimeter squads. I want this entire hospital surrounded. No one enters this building without my personal biometric clearance. If a fly lands on that window with a Moretti crest, kill it."
"And Vincent?"
"Tell Vincent that tomorrow at dawn, I will meet him at the old rail yard," Gabriel’s eyes narrowed into slits of obsidian ice. "He wants to discuss the girl? We will discuss her. But first, bring me the traitor from my south gate. I have five minutes before Elsie wakes up, and I despise unfinished business."
Dominic nodded, turning toward the door, but paused as Elena Vance walked back into the room, holding a medical chart.
"He's not leaving this room, Dominic," Elena said firmly, looking straight at Gabriel. "And you’re not bringing your blood feuds onto my pediatric floor."
Gabriel didn't flinch. "Elena. Step aside."
"No, Gabriel," Elena countered, stepping directly into his path, pointing at the bed. "Her fever is down to one hundred, but the pneumonia caused a pleural effusion. If her stress levels spike, she goes back into respiratory distress. You walk out that door with that murderous look on your face, she will sense it the second she wakes up. Look at her."
Gabriel stopped. His gaze fell upon the small girl on the bed. Elsie’s eyebrows were pinched together, as if even in her medicated sleep, she was searching for the presence that had carried her through the hurricane.
Gabriel let out a slow, controlled breath. He took off his wet watch, setting it on the tray.
May you like
"Dominic," Gabriel commanded quietly, never breaking his gaze from Elsie. "Take care of the rat at the gate yourself. Bring me his phone. I’ll speak to Vincent from here."
***